A self-described “emotional science project,” Bernadette Mayer’s Memory1,100-odd photographs made by shooting a thirty-six-exposure roll of 35-mm color slide film on each of the thirty-one days of July 1971, accompanied by six-plus hours of diaristic narration that the artist later revised into a bookis one of those conceptual pieces from the 1960s and ’70s that have been better known as anecdote than as physical fact. The work was first shown in its entirety in February 1972 at Holly Solomon’s 98 Greene Street space and has been re-created in various partial arrangements over the years. But it had not been exhibited in its original form for four and a half decades prior to its recent reconstitution here, in all its languid, Kodachrome anti-glory. Accompanied by a low-volume recording of Mayer’s incantatory, Steinian stream-of-consciousness accounting of the days in